Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The dress was flattering, Gwenllian knew, which was why she had brought it to England.
The color matched the green in her eyes, the material was light enough to fall in a clean line and the cut emphasized her trim waist and displayed her modest bosom to advantage.
Would Alexander like it? What would he wear tonight?
A velvet tunic? A bejeweled scabbard? She had never seen him in all his finery before.
He had either been dressed in serviceable traveling clothes or sliding in mud to rescue puppies and imprudent Welsh women looking for adventure. Or naked and in bed.
Naked.
She afforded a smile. Nothing he could wear tonight could suit him better than his own beautiful, golden skin.
She should know. The memory of his body haunted her.
The perfect mouth that could kiss her and brush her skin with astounding delicacy.
The rounded shoulders that tensed to support his weight above her while he plunged inside her with breathtaking urgency.
The corded stomach that became even tighter when he prepared to release the pleasure she had coaxed out of him.
Yes, every inch of him was perfect naked, but she was looking forward to seeing him in his best clothes.
Such finery would make any tryst even more wicked.
The contrast between the knight worthy of a visit to court and the hot lover unable to contain himself would be very piquant indeed.
A sudden thought crossed Gwenllian’s mind, shattering the lewd musings. Would she even see him at the banquet? Had he accepted the invitation? She had assumed he had, but perhaps that had been wishful thinking.
Unable to wait another moment, needing to be sure, she ran to Sian. Her sister was in the great hall, giving the servants her last instructions.
“Are you all right, Gwenllian?” she asked in Welsh, alarmed by her sudden irruption into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I’m looking forward to the banquet, that’s all.
Forgive me, I didn’t realize I was running.
” Forcing herself to calm, Gwenllian looked at the table decorated with boughs of greenery and gleaming pewter dishes.
It promised to be a lavish occasion, despite the gloomy atmosphere Throckmorton Castle couldn’t seem able to shake off.
“Has everyone accepted the invitation then?”
“No, unfortunately. One of Christopher’s friends is not available.”
“Oh? I hope he’s not too disappointed. Which one is it? Lord Hart?” she said at random, remembering the name he’d mentioned the other day.
Please, please, please, let it be him, not Alexander.
“Yes. But apart from that, everyone is going to be here.”
Relief washed over her. Before the day was over, she would see Alexander.
“One of the guests is Sir Alexander Rathbone,” Sian carried on. “I’m glad he’s coming. I’ve wanted to introduce you to the man who pretended to save me from two ruffians all those years ago. Do you remember that story?”
She did remember, not least because by an odd twist of fate, years later, the supposed savior had saved her for real.
In the past year, she had many times wished she could find the courage to tell her sisters, if not her parents, about the knight who had burst into her life at the moment she had been looking for adventure.
Being the only one who actually knew him, Sian would have been the perfect confidante.
But Gwenllian had never been brave enough to tell anyone in Wales about the rescue that day by the river, or that he, and not Osian, had accompanied her to Scotland.
Not that she feared judgment, exactly, but talking about him would make the yearning for him, which she constantly tried to suppress, even more unbearable.
Over the last interminable months, she had struggled to remember that their dalliance had been nothing more than an adventure, a taste of freedom, an indulgence she had allowed herself before her reasonable life could begin.
And now here she was, getting light-headed at the idea of seeing him again, planning on resuming their affair, even when she knew it would lead nowhere.
What was she doing? Running headlong into trouble, that was what. But she could not stop herself.
“Yes, I remember you mentioning Sir Alexander,” she mumbled, repositioning a frond of fern in a vase to avoid having to look at her sister.
“You’ll see. I’m sure you’ll like him.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“The roast goose is exceptional.”
Sitting to her right, Iorwerth was licking his fingers in appreciation.
Gwenllian smiled distractedly. Her cousin was only a few months younger than her and reminded her of her brother Rhys.
For these two reasons, the two of them had always been very close.
But today she could barely focus on what he was saying.
Neither could she talk normally to her aunt, who was sitting to her left.
The food, though of exceptional quality, had barely registered on her palate, the music had barely reached her ears, the conversations had barely stirred her interest.
All she could think of was the tall, dark man at the other end of the table, talking to Christopher with an ease betraying their old acquaintance.
He was wearing a tunic of sapphire blue velvet that hugged his powerful chest, and he looked every bit as dashing as she had imagined he would.
But he had barely looked at her, and halfway through the evening, they had yet to exchange more than a polite, impersonal greeting.
To the casual observer, he cared no more about her than he did about her young cousin Rhian, who was sitting opposite him.
It grated, undeniably. Because Rhian had not shared his bed, had she?
She had not made him pant with exhaustion.
She had not welcomed him inside her heat.
She had not coaxed his release with her hands or her mouth.
She, Gwenllian, had done all this and more.
Didn’t she deserve some discreet acknowledgment, if not a public declaration?
Yes. Yes, she did, damn him.
And she would make sure to get it.
By the time the sweetmeats were brought to the table, she was ready to implode. Fortunately, the music started, and the guests stood and began to mingle. This was her chance. She could not bear being ignored any longer. One way or the other, Alexander would have to deal with her.
Unable to wait another moment, she went straight to him. The moment was ideal, as he was standing on his own in a corner of the room, Christopher having just left him to go run after his daughter Lizzie, who had decided that now was a good time to go out into the bailey.
“Sir Alexander.” She swept a small, appropriate curtsy.
Had they been alone, she would have delighted in sweeping him a curtsy as ludicrous as the one Lady Isabeau had, all those months ago, knowing he would understand the allusion.
But they were surrounded by people, even if in all probability no one could hear them, acting thus would draw unwanted attention, which was the last thing she needed.
“Lady Gwenllian,” he answered in his blandest voice. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
Was he trying to provoke her with the use of the word pleasure? She smiled sweetly to hide the fact that her core had started to swell. “The pleasure is all mine. Or at least it would be if you did not do your best to ignore me,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper.
He coughed at her directness. “What else am I supposed to do?” he said between his teeth when he had recovered from the fit of coughing. “Your whole family is here. Your uncle. Bloody hell, can’t you see that I can’t just go and—?”
“You don’t have to tell them that you’ve more than once stuck your head between my legs and licked me until I cried out your name, you know.
You could just say we met in town one day.
” She leaned in even closer. “No need to mention that I’ve licked every inch of you either. Or how much you liked it.”
Alexander was stunned. What was his little Buttercup doing?
Was she trying to unsettle him? Make him go hard, here in the middle of the great hall for all to see?
Was alluding to their scandalous nights together her way to make him pay for ignoring her during the banquet?
To his dismay, it worked. His groin stirred at the memory of all they had done together, of his mouth on her, and her lips on him.
And when she leaned in closer, and her familiar, maddening scent reached him, his cock went fully erect.
This was the moment Sian and Christopher chose to walk over to them.
“Do you need an introduction, or do you know one another?” his friend’s wife asked her sister, tilting her head.
Has she detected a familiarity between them?
It was not impossible. He could well believe that their connection was obvious to anyone who cared to look.
The very air between them seemed to crackle.
“We do know one another,” Gwenllian answered before Alexander could think of a suitable answer.
His heart started to beat unbearably hard.
What would she say? That, of course, they knew one another, since he had stuck his head between her thighs time and time again?
That she had licked every inch of him, including the ones currently straining against his hose?
He wasn’t quite certain she would not. What would he do then? He had no idea.
Except that, if she did, he might well find himself with Christopher’s sword pressing against his throat.
“It is hardly surprising, since we are neighbors,” Gwenllian finished, allowing her to breathe.
Sian didn’t appear convinced by this explanation. “No, I suppose not, but I didn’t realize you—”
A piercing scream interrupted her. She rolled her eyes and looked over to where two of her daughters were chasing a puppy. Everyone was looking on with amused smiles.